The little gifts...

Mom just brought me a piece of toilet paper...

Mom:  May I give you this?

No, thank you.

Mom:  You don't want it?

No, thank you.

Mom:  But, I got it especially for you.

That's nice, but, no thank you.

Mom:  It's my favorite!

Then put it in your pocket.

Mom:  Why would I want to keep a piece of toilet paper?


It's always interesting to see when and if reality might make an appearance. 

I had a dream...

I just had an interesting dream. I was cuddled up on the couch with a blanket, when Mom opened the door and allowed a bird to fly into the house. I couldn't see the bird (as birds are one of my biggest fears, I was hiding under my blanket, screaming) but by the sound of its flapping wings, I knew it was a raven. As I was screaming at Mom to get the bird out, it pooped all over me. It was in my hair and somehow even under the blanket. It was everywhere.

Nasty, right? While my dream self was a little grossed out and just a little irritated that the poop of one of my biggest fears had just landed on me, my subconscious self was relieved that I hadn't died!  I mean it was a very large bird trapped in the same room with me... and I didn't die!!!

I used an online dream dictionary to see what it said the appearance of a raven symbolized.  They are said to represent the purest truths of our subconsciousness. I don't know about that, I think a sparrow could have delivered the same message, with less mess.  

So, let's look at an amateur's attempt to interpret the dream. Here is my take... The bird is Alzheimer's. The crap represents the way I feel about life right now, thanks to Alzheimer's. Mom is the link between the bird, the crap, and me. Simple, right?

But, it's my reaction to the mess that I find the most interesting. The fact that I was relieved that I was only pooped on and that I survived is the most telling for me. There are days here in this house, when the stress and demands placed upon me are so overwhelming that I truly feel as if it is killing me, piece, by stressful piece. So, for my subconscious to tell me that I will survive this mess?  Yeah, that's my kind of dream. 

Math is math...

Most days, I am able to get out of bed with a somewhat positive attitude intact.  Not all, but most.  It lasts right up until the point that I just can't take another argument or word of negativity from Mom. 

Today, however, I woke up weepy and sad.  Then I took a 10 question little test about depression.  The questions themselves made me sad.  The answers made me cry.  It was sort of like balancing your checkbook when you're broke.  You already know you're broke but seeing it in black and white just makes it crystal clear.  You can't fool yourself into thinking it is better than it is.  The test said that it couldn't diagnose whether I am depressed, only a doctor can do that.  But, 10 questions, 8 answered with a yes.  Whether I'm balancing my checkbook or taking this test about depression, I can't argue with the math. 

Just different...

Mom has an unspoken agreement with the rest of the family... If she finds it, it is hers.  Some things are worth fighting for, like a phone, money or even underwear.  Some things are not, like old straws, pennies, or even an old Happy Meal toy.  But, some things are just fate, like Katie's shirt that Mom decided to wear to day care yesterday. 

I didnt like Burger King anyway...

I am so upset and my thoughts are so jumbled that I don't know exactly how to put them into words.  I will do what I tell my kids to do... I will just start at the beginning and work my way through.

There was a power outage this morning for a few hours.  Our phones were almost dead, so we decided to go get a quick lunch and charge them in the car.  We went to Burger King because it's cheap and Mom is pretty relaxed there.  We ordered and chatted with the lady (Krystal) behind the counter who has befriended us.  Everything was going well, Mom had already tried to hit on the man behind us in line, so it was business as usual. But, as we walked away, scratch that... As Katie and I walked away, Mom leaned over to Krystal  and loudly said, "Don't make me go with her, she'll hurt me if you do."  From there it only got worse. 

Mom refused to move from the counter and effectively stopped the store in her tracks.  No one could order.  Every one stared.  Mom yelled that she wouldn't move because "she" (me) would kill her.  It took some coaxing, but Krystal came from behind the counter and finally got Mom to move further into the dining room.  But, that was as good as it was going to get.  She wouldn't let anyone help her and she would yell if I came within 15 feet of her.  She told anyone who would listen that I was going to hurt her, kill her, slit her throat, murder her, etc.  I was so embarrassed, frustrated and hurt. I was embarrassed because people were staring and talking. If you know me, I don't like being the center of attention.  Frustrated because it is my job to take care of her, to prevent these types of outbursts and to calm her if they occur anyway.  And I was hurt because, as irrational as it is, it was still my own mother accusing me of horrific things... in front of people who have no way of knowing the truth.

After a good seven or eight minutes of screaming and yanking herself away from anyone who offered to help, (yes, people offered, one lady stepped in and tried to help mom to her own table to join her for lunch) Katie was able to talk Mom into sitting down only by promising that she wouldn't let me join them.  I was left standing in the front of the store sobbing.  A big, rough looking man stepped forward, rubbed my arm and said, "Don't worry about it, we all have parents."  The lady who had offered Mom her own lunch, came and gave me a big hug and pulled a chair out and let me sit with her family so that I could watch Katie and Mom from a distance.  She offered me lunch and something to drink and just chatted like we were old friends until I was able to calm myself.  Various people offered sympathetic smiles or a hand on my shoulder as they passed by to their tables.  Krystal promised to pray for us. 

I could see that Mom was eating and Katie was getting frustrated, so I joined them.  Mom's focus had moved away from me being the one that would hurt her.  But, she was still paranoid.  We were told to watch for "her" or "that guy that is going to kill her". 

We finally made it to the car, where Mom promptly laid down to hide from "him".  The entire trip home she asked me to look behind the care and see of  "she" was still after her. 

As we sit here safely at home, I am trying to focus on the kindness of the many strangers who stepped forward to help.  Mom is dozing on the couch with no memory of her outburst.  And, I realize that is the only mercy of Alzheimer's.

Oh the irony...

You know how your hair always does what it is supposed to do on the day that you're getting it cut off?  It's like it knows that you're fed up and chopping it off.  Yeah, that's kind of like Mom today.  We have an appointment with the Neurologist in a couple of hours.  He's the one who adjusts her behavioral medications.  Guess what?  Her behavior is great today and that's without meds!  Why do I feel like there are rules to this game that Mom knows and I don't?

Goodnight...

Mom:  I'm going to say goodnight.
Me:  Okay.  Goodnight.
Mom:  I'M suppose to say it!
Me:  Okay.  Sorry.  I didn't say it.
Mom:  Thank you.  Goodnight.
Me:  Goodnight
Mom:  I'M saying it, not you!
Me:  Sorry.
Mom:  Goodnight.
Me:
Mom:  You can't even be polite and respond when I speak to you!

I seriously don't make this stuff up.